80 Proof

Running through the field, wishing to be reborn.
Getting cut, by every little thorn.
Everyday, listening to him scorn.
For us, his love is torn.

At night, he pulls up and we go to our room.
Never knowing our impending doom.
Mother is never too far away from the broom.
We want her to divorce the one, she made her groom.

We play together and its perfect amongst us all,
but when he is there everything dies, like in the Fall.
I fear for my mom, praying their isn't another brawl.
This family is being ripped apart, by him and his alcohol. 

I wish he loved me as much as his booze.
But too late, my love he can no longer choose.
He has given me my last bruise.
I will not let us give in to him, I refuse.

When we leave he says, “well what about me?”
“I love you all, can't you see?”
But were gone, and from him we're free.
Now he is with his only friend, so we'll let them be.

familylovesadlovemerhyme

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